


Back to Eichenwalde

by MrThirst



Series: Discord Drabbles [4]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Age Difference, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 08:49:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10850556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrThirst/pseuds/MrThirst
Summary: Reinhardt has some flashbacks/panic attack and Lucio calms him down





	Back to Eichenwalde

He'd been back to Eichenwalde several times since The Crisis. What he felt on those visits seemed decided by some game of chance that left him pleasantly nostalgic, at peace in the quiet of the still-abandoned ruin, or shaking, mind blank and eyes unseeing until it finally passes. The mission had started out fine. He felt good to be back. The smell was the same, the air felt the same, even the sky shown the shade of blue that was unrivaled by anywhere else he'd ever been.    
The mission had gone off without a hitch. The team composition clicked together like magic, and the fight was energizing rather than tiring. Reinhardt  _ loved _ it. He laughed loudly, smashed hard, and held fast with his shield while his team zipped around him. Glorious. This feeling was why he'd joined in the first place.

The mission ended and their dropship was headed back to get them. Extraction scheduled for two hours. His team huddled together, laughing and chatting. Reinhardt excused himself, wanting to walk through the site for awhile.    
He wandered through the old, moss covered ruins, running his hands across the smooth stone. He closed his eyes and imagined how it used to be: the stones themselves filled with life as people scurried busily around the paths. He could hear the echoes of their laughter, the murmur of a crowd long dead or gone, the feeling of his friends jostling him as they wove through the streets.

The happy nostalgia turned cold, falling like lead in his stomach. His fingers dug into the stone and he pleaded his mind, "not now, please, don't do this, please, not now, not now, not now."   
It ignored him, carrying on with a vengeance.   
The echoes of laughter turned to screams he could swear he was hearing from more than just his memories, the murmuring crowd turned to groaning bodies strewn bloodily across the ground, the ghost touches of his friends turned to sharp pains where he was hit in the weak points of his armor, turned to their bodies in his arms.

He leaned against the wall, willing his lungs to  _ breathe _ , oh god he needed air. He brought his hands to his face and found that they were shaking. "Not now, please," he tried again. Useless.   
The battle inside raged on until it came to an abrupt scene change to the after math. He could see himself wandering through the smoking remains of the city so clearly he could feel the aches in his muscles. The frantic shouting of medics and nurses seems to deafen him even while sounding far away.    
_ Please, don't do this. _   
He slides down the wall, vaguely aware his  _ whole _ body is shaking. His guts were roiling like he might throw up, but he doubted his body would give him that relief. His thighs ached like he'd been walking as much as he had all those years ago. His scars throbbed, reminding him where they all were as if he'd ever forgotten. Phantom images danced in front of his left eye, teasing him for having lost its sight. He closed them both, hiding his face in his palms, pressing hard to try driving the images away.

"Reinhardt?"   
Not a voice from his memory. Everyone around him was dead. No one was there to call for him.    
"Reinhardt, can you hear me?"   
No. He didn't need to hear any more voices.   
"I'm going to play something now, maybe it'll help-- let me know if you don't want it."   
Play? This wasn't a game. The bodies around him were no jokes. The blood on his hands, his armor, his face, his hammer was a dark, serious thing.   
Music drifted into his thoughts, jarring him back from the past as he tried to sort out where it was coming from. It was soft, gentle, calming. He drew a shaking breath and took his shaking hands away from his face. Odd... why were his palms wet?   
"Reinhardt."   
He looked and finally registered the voice he'd been hearing as Lucio. He didn't have the energy to react to being seen like this.    
"Reinhardt, is it okay to touch you?"   
He nodded. Lucio moved closer, crawling awkwardly on the knees of his skates to settle between Reinhardt's knees. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket-- Reinhardt recognized it as one he'd given Lucio after the first time he'd called him old fashioned when they'd gotten together-- and gently dabbed at Reinhardt's cheeks. Ah... that explained the moisture on his hands.

"Do you want to talk about it?"   
Reinhardt shook his head. "Same stuff."   
"Is the music helping?"   
Reinhardt considered it. Then he nodded. It wasn't immediate like Lucio's music sometimes was, but he could feel it working its way into his blood to pump peace through his body.   
"Do you want me to talk about something?"   
He nodded at once. "Please."   
Lucio smiled, and gently kissed Reinhardt's forehead, dragging his fingers gently through Reinhardt's hair. He settled in more comfortably, letting Reinhardt wrap his giant arms around his little body, and started talking. He talked about birds, about the process of making the song they were listening to, about the latest video game he and Hana had been playing together, about a cute bird he'd seen the other day. Reinhardt's eyes fluttered closed, peacefully this time, no longer tortured by visions of bleeding, dying friends, and let Lucio's voice flow over him. It gave him something to focus on. It kept him grounded. Kept him in the present.

He wasn't sure how long he let Lucio go on, but finally, at long last, his breathing came easily and his body settled itself out. His guts untwisted, his limbs stopped shaking. He opened his eyes and saw only empty roads, clean stone, and Lucio.   
"Thank you," he murmured, interrupting a story about Lucio's skates he'd heard before. Lucio smiled at him, letting Reinhardt pull him in for a quick kiss.   
"Wanna make you feel better," Lucio returned, wrapping his arms around Reinhardt's neck.    
"You always do."   
He stood, taking Lucio, laughing, up with him. "We had better return before our ride gets here!"   
Lucio snickers, "think they'd leave without us?"   
"I wouldn't put it past them!"   
"Oh~? Being alone with you might not be so bad." Lucio grinned, cheeky.   
Reinhardt laughed, "I'm sure we can still be alone when we get back to base."   
Lucio kissed his nose, "don't threaten me with a good time, old man."

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have PTSD, so I don't know if this was written correctly. It's based more on panic attacks that I have, which may be similar but ?? we just don't know
> 
> Another prompt from Discord. Thanks to Mero for letting me write their idea.


End file.
